The Story of a Murderer
by iiPanicProneFish
Summary: Her first act of magic was murder.


**Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter was created by the great J.K Rowling. I just like the play with the characters.**

**A/N: I have made a longer story due to various requests. Please put up with my unedited drafts. Snape will show up later by the way.**

Prologue:

Her first act of magic was murder. It just happened one day- pain and fear, those were two emotions she was already long accustomed to, yes, but one day something just managed to tip the scales. Broke the proverbial camel's back you could say.

As spontaneous her newfound abilities were however, she would be lying if she were to say that she did not entirely _mean_ to have done it. She knows, that even as years pass to separate the past from her present, she would always remember the point in which her life was altered; guilt ensured it as conscience had branded her.

Perhaps as the years pass by she may finally forget just how much of her blood painted the house a bright, albeit darkening red, she may forget the way her voice had cracked and broke at each vain plea and smarting blow- she may forget the specifics, remembering merely the fact that the events had indeed taken place. But how could she ever forget how, one day, the other body beside her reached out a trembling hand and stroked her cheek softly even as she flinched, the first sign of compassion she had ever received?

"_I pity you."_

Those were three words she didn't fully understand at the time. Wasn't her condition partially their fault in the first place? Wasn't their body just as broken and defeated as she?

"_Why?"_

She remembers their faltering at that question, and how she had instantly regretted asking, wishing she could've just enjoyed the rare treat while it lasted; perhaps their previous actions and words were purely impulsive, maybe they already regretted showing her affection. It simply wouldn't do for her to get used to kindness now would it?

"_Because you're all grown up now aren't you? It's time for you to be used just as badly as me."_

She still didn't fully understand at those words- proof of her last shred of innocence. More questions formed readily enough though: How can the coming days possibly be worse than the norm? Where will _you_ be when it happens? _Why don't you try and stop it if you pity me so much?_

Lying on the floor just a while longer, she finally let a single question slip out of the confines of her mind.

"_How do you deal with it?"_

With a twitch of their lips as if stifling a giggle to an amusing joke, the whispered reply came:

"_Me? I keep reminding myself one of his blows might finally off me. It helps."_

She didn't understand, she _still _doesn't understand. Perhaps they were right, she really wasn't as broken as a person could be. She still had hope.

"_Why- why won't you fight?"_

She remembers the condescending smile, and how it was the first time she actually saw them smile outside of still photographs.

"_You're really just so precious, full of hope like how children should be. He'll have a fun time breaking you. Just like me."_

She didn't know how to respond to that, the more they spoke the more her confusion increased, until all the questions in her head seemed to be like the voices of an angry mob, screaming and pounding against her skull, demanding to be let out and answered for.

She simply hoisted herself up without a word and gathered her father's empty beer bottles strewn across the floor, spreading the blanket around his still form where he lay passed out.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until weeks later when he came her to at night, fulfilling the deed she had been warned about. His body stretched out above her, clamping down against her arms to keep her from fighting. She remembers being choked just to be informed <em>the air will last longer if you stop fighting<em>. She can't remember feeling pain, her body's basic need for oxygen demanded her entire focus as she gasped and wheezed- not even her thoughts, her constant companions that usually thought many ideas at once could think nothing other than _**AIR AIR AIR!**_She was barely aware of the intrusion of her body, the violent thrusting and emptying of his seed as she began to count the frantic white dots against her eyes dance and buzz about.

But suddenly as her vision was slowly fading to black, she finally felt a huge lungful of cold air rush into her lungs. Nursing a lingering headache, she finally began to feel the pain in her nether regions and the uncomfortable clump of drying sticky fluids. Her neck was sore, as to be expected. She remembers now, feeling that burning anger and living off of it, yes, she had used that anger to keep her soul alive for quite some time until Hogwarts. It was that anger she felt that night, that unleashed that dormant power she had.

Ignoring the throbbing and aching pain, she marched down to them, not bothering to hide her beaten and violated body. Fury loosening her tongue, she quickly hissed:

"_You just sit around waiting to die and you think you can tell me you pity me? Do you really think you can just warn me and think you did your job or something? I hate you, hate you, HATE YOU! I am __**nothing **__like you. I am not a coward."_

She did not seem to notice the heavy presence of her magic filling the room at the time, she did not stop her rant to see them seemingly struggle to continue standing nor their struggles for air as they collapsed, for in her rage, all she saw was red.

"_Momento mori. I hope your time comes soon."_

As she waited impatiently for the response that would never come, she finally spared a glance at them, only to see exactly what she had rashly wished for just a few moments ago.

It was at the age of 8 when Hermione Jean Granger first showed signs of magic and murdered her mother as a result. It was the age of 8 when she first felt the shame that still lingers even now, shame for feeling not guilt nor alarm at the act that stained her soul, but the rather exhilaration and power that came with it.

* * *

><p><em>Sevi: What the- I fall in love with a nutter?<em>

_Fish: No no, you're supposed to the caring and understanding kindred soul who-_

_Sevi: *sputters* WHAT? I HAVE MY OWN PROBLEMS TO DEAL WITH AND-_

_Fish: Exactly. A kindred soul._


End file.
